


Contradiction

by kittywit



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Bond is confused, Bond thinks in italics and parentheticals, M/M, Q is a bamf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-27
Updated: 2013-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-09 14:34:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/775300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittywit/pseuds/kittywit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond can’t keep up.  Either Q is a badass agent or he’s a too-young tech guru.  Bond can’t seem to figure out how to categorize him as both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contradiction

Turns out, Q is actually a proficient liar… when he needs to be. It’s just that, usually, he doesn’t like doing it, and he doesn’t see the need to do so when safely ensconced within MI6, witty rejoinders and deflection not withstanding.

“Moneypenny told you I was afraid of flying?” Q looks nonplussed for only a moment, and then a furrowed brow and a slight frown appear quickly. “Flying.”

Bond raises his eyebrows and Q stares him down. It’s not a confirmation, and Bond doesn’t understand the reaction. But he can’t place a finger on why it raises his suspicions. Because Q is a pretty damn good liar, when he knows that he’s supposed to be lying. And apparently, Q didn’t know that there even was a lie to be told.

As he turns back to his computer screens, Q asks, “And when did Moneypenny provide you with this information?”

Q is acting like the nonchalantest motherfucker in nonchalant-ville and it raises Bond’s hackles, so he snipes, “Shanghai,” and is bitterly vindicated when he sees Q’s aborted wince.

It’s a couple of moments where Bond’s not sure Q is breathing but then Q’s eyes shift back to Bond, and Q only hums in response. Bond is suddenly aggravated and unnerved (and he can’t figure out why), so he dumps the remainder of undamaged equipment on the desk and stalks off. No, no, James Bond doesn’t stalk. He _strides with purpose_ away from Q.

He misses the pleasantly surprised look on Q’s face.

\-----

It’s not until months later, when Q is assigned as backup in some hellhole of a desert, when Bond realizes that Q is actually a fairly proficient flyer. Flyer, as in _pilot_. As in he’s flying the damn Maverick Jet he stole from God-knows-where and _evading the fucking surface-to-air missiles_ while Bond bleeds all over the co-pilot seat.

Bond must’ve made a noise of disbelief (or it could have been a whine as they hit zero-g on a nosedive), and Q (still the most nonchalant motherfucker in nonchalant-ville) looks over, “Do try to keep your blood off the leather. This jet is borrowed.”

Bond snorts, disbelieving, “You intend to return it?”

Q shrugs. He fucking _shrugs_. “Maybe.”

Bond decides that he has no response to this, and apparently also decides he’s _safe_ , because he promptly passes out at the next bout of weightlessness.

He wakes up in medical, head full of cotton, but still itching to get out of this too-white space, when he notices a mass of hair nestled upon folded arms somewhere around his thigh. When Q stirs, Bond tries his voice, “Did you return the jet?” He’s hoarse, and wonders how long he’s been out.

Q raises his head, a bright splotch of pink on his forehead where his delicate skin rested upon his forearm, and blinks. “The jet?” He looks 15 years younger than he actually is as he’s fumbling around for his glasses.

And Bond can’t keep up. Either Q is a badass agent or he’s a too-young tech guru. Bond can’t seem to figure out how to categorize him as both. 

“Yeah, I got into a bit of trouble for that one. Turns out it belonged to the Prince.”

Bond wants to ask the Prince of what, but doesn’t have the energy. He passes out again. No, no, James Bond doesn’t pass out. He _falls asleep with purpose_.

\-----

It wasn’t the first time Bond had “broken into” Q’s flat. 

The first time, James had admonished Q about his lax security system, to which Q had laughed right in his face. Bond was taken aback at Q’s, frankly, cavalier attitude toward his own safety – especially when he was constantly haranguing Bond to come back in one piece.

Bond would have to say something to M about Q’s safety. It wouldn’t do to have Q attacked in his own flat. But then, shit went down in Jakarta, and Bond forgot.

And then, the second time Bond broke into Q’s flat, he crossed some invisible barrier about three feet into Q’s untidy bedroom, and the windows snapped shut, the bedroom door swung closed and a high-pitched siren began blaring. Bond tried the door, but it was not budging. Within minutes, Bond was on his knees, covering his ears, physically recoiling against the noise. At three minutes, the siren stopped, and the bedroom door opened to reveal Q, shaking his head. Q muttered something like, "It's a good job I turned off the carbon monoxide,” but Bond couldn’t be sure as his ears were still ringing.

The third time Bond came to Q’s flat, he knocked on the door. Q was surprised, to say the least, and told him that Bond was back to being an approved visitor, whatever that meant. The fourth time, Bond realized that Q had been letting him in… somehow. James had since lost count at how many times he’d broken in to Q’s flat. 

He’d been released from hospital three hours ago, and after a shower and a change of clothes, let himself into the flat. He has been leaning against the desk in Q’s den for over thirty minutes, staring at Q, just waiting for him to speak. Q is pretty good at ignoring him, actually focused on the lines of code that are currently keeping The Treasury safe from infiltration. Q scans the government’s security in his spare time… or when it’s emphatically insisted upon by persons of high importance who annoy the ever-living-shit out of… 

Q blinks, losing his focus on the code. He’ll have to start over on this system anyway, now, so he turns his attention to James with a raised eyebrow, “Yes?”

Bond snorts. Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes and all he gets is one word?

“You can pilot a plane.”

Q blinks again. “Yes.”

“Were you going to tell me?”

“Possibly.”

“Possibly.” Bond means it as a question – or a threat. Q’s not quite sure which, and as has been happening more and more, he finds that he cares.

“Quite possibly?” Q allows a small smile, friendly but not apologetic.

Bond snorts again. “And when did you learn to fly planes?”

Q’s eyes narrow, weighing options. “Before I was MI6.” It’s vague, but telling to Bond, especially since he’s been unable to hack any of Q’s personnel files, and his paper file is meager, at best. Q had pilot’s lessons and access to a plane before he was Q. Bond quickly narrows it down to the two m’s – military or money.

Bond tries a different tact, “So, you sent Moneypenny to Shanghai instead of delivering the tech yourself because…”

And now, Bond sees Q’s face blank, no emotion, only a bored expression – like Q is doing Bond a favor by just being here. But underneath that bored expression, Q is searching his features for the intent behind the question. It wouldn’t be noticeable to the untrained eye, but Bond is fully aware – though it could be that he’s just gotten to know Q a little better over the last year. 

Q’s silence goes on for long enough that Bond pushes away his (surprisingly, very real) disappointment that he might never get an answer on this. Bond straightens, offering a small smile as recompense for an unintentional uncomfortable line of questions, and makes to leave Q’s den.

But, Q clears his throat, looking away from Bond when quietly stating, “I had a family obligation. My mother…” Q's voice trails off and he makes no effort to complete the sentence.

Bond is perplexed, but doesn’t show it – he feels like he's finally getting somewhere with Q. He just doesn't know where that somewhere is going. Projecting an air of calm (that he doesn't actually feel) as he says, quietly, “I thought you were an orphan.”

Q blinks up at him, and it’s impossible, but Q looks both old and incredibly young at the same time.

“There’s more than one type of orphan, 007.”

Bond has nothing to say to that.


End file.
